Given
by EEstelle
Summary: The gym was SSA Emma Holland's only escape from the guilt that plagued her, until the day she ran into the one squad member left alive. Levi was a cold, calloused brat, so why would he offer her the forgiveness she couldn't give herself? An impromptu training session may just help them to leave the guilt behind. Levi/OC. FBI Agent AU. One-shot.


_**Given**_

The locker room was virtually empty that afternoon when Emma stalked in, spinning the dial on her lock box and yanking on the latch. Pulling out two long, white wrist wraps, the woman deftly swathed each hand and slammed the door shut. Perching on the end of the wooden bench that ran the length of the row, she tightened the laces of her tennis shoes. Her footsteps echoing in the vacant space, she made her way to the workout room.

The walls were lined with treadmills and bikes, as well as weights and machines, while blue mats were laid across the floor. From the ceiling, a handful of punching bags hung at safe distances, appearing to double in number thanks to the mirror that covered one wall. It was to one of these that Emma walked, purposefully choosing the farthest bag from her. The early afternoon sunlight may be a nuisance, but it was worth the inconvenience to have a view of the city through the window. Noting the positions of the three or four other agents occupying the gym, she took her stance and began her routine.

 _One, two, one, two._ That man in the corner? The one with the patch over his eye? He worked in the department stationed on the floor above hers. He'd been a field agent until three months ago. Some unsub had caught him with a nail gun. For the rest of his life, he'd be seeing the world through glass.

 _One, two, one, one, two. One swift jab after another._ The woman running with a staggered gait? Three floors above hers. She'd lost her leg two years ago. They had her filing paperwork now, but she used to be the country's lead expert in explosive technologies. She'd been lucky a limb was the worst thing the detonation had stolen.

 _One, two, one, two. Jab right. Jab left. Harder. Quicker. One swing after another. Concentrate._ The young agent lifting two ten-pound dumbbells? Wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down. Severed his spine in a chase a month into his career.

Not everyone who utilized the facility was injured, but most personnel preferred to exercise outside of headquarters, all but those who were given a set time during the day for therapy or those who found it inconvenient to travel very far. That particular day, Emma was the only one who didn't show outer signs of their dangerous lifestyle, but that didn't mean the scars weren't there. The packs of her punches only proved it as she launched her attacks, her knuckles burning red. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest with every blow. Her breath ran ragged with each increasingly forceful movement.

As she swung her fist back, winding up for a heavy hit, she saw something behind the punching bag's mass in the last possible instant. It was too late to slow down, even knowing she was bound to knock the hanging into the figure in its path. All she could do was watch as it flew out on impact, straining against its ceiling mount. The lithe figure leaped aside in the nick of time, his arm shooting forward to steady the bag.

"Tch, watch where you hit that thing, brat. It's a tool, not a toy. You're going to hurt yourself training like that."

With eyes like steel covered by a sharp fringing of dark hair, the figure peered around the leather sack to regard her. She knew that face, she thought with a jolt. It belonged to the notorious S.S.A. Levi Ackerman. Lowering her fists, Emma stood to full height, and although she was short by most standards, the two were nearly eye level. She knew him, but that wasn't to say she'd met the man. There was hardly an agent in the bureau who hadn't spent a good deal of time staring at the pictures of him and his team as of late. It was a hard face to forget when a recent tragedy had rendered him the only member of his squadron to survive.

"S.S.A. Ackerman. Forgive me. I didn't see you there." She blinked, resting one hand on her hip and running the other across her brow. The man's narrow gaze flicked up and down her figure as he stepped around the bag to face her. She thought she saw a glint of recognition following his assessment.

"Agent Holland. Didn't expect to run into you here." Without waiting for a response, he brushed past her, claiming the sack hanging a few feet from hers. Surprised though she was that he knew her, it took her all of a moment's consideration to decide it was better not to ask. Thinking the conversation was over, the woman nodded in a dismissive fashion and repositioned herself, huffing as she resumed her assault. But the steady harmony of hits only lasted a moment. Letting out a little gasp of surprise, she almost fell into her own swing as a face loomed over her shoulder.

"Your stance is crap. Tighten that wide swing. You're embarrassing yourself, kid."

Tucking a strand of blonde hair which had strayed from her pony tail behind her ear, Emma raised her eyebrows. The man stepped back as she turned to face him once more.

"Excuse me? Didn't catch that."

"You'd get a stronger hit if you'd straighten your spine. You look like a dumbass," he deadpanned, folding his arms across his chest.

Caught somewhere between irritation, humiliation, and amusement over discovering that the rumors regarding the man's reputation were true, the woman mirrored his pose.

"Oh? Alright, I'll bite. Got any pointers?"

"Well, for starters, you could wipe that condescension off your face," he mused, walking up and taking her by the shoulders. His touch was both gentle and commanding as he rotated her body around to size up the punching bag. Hovering behind her, he tsked at her involuntary noncompliance as he attempted to reposition her limbs to fit an appropriate form.

"Keep that elbow closer to your side. Tch, pathetic, but I guess that'll do. For now. What in the hell are they teaching you in that worthless academy? This half-assed crap isn't going to fly in the field."

Although his words were harsh, his voice was soft as he nudged her into place, stepping back once he'd deemed her efforts sufficient. He jerked his head at her. "Hit it."

With a sidelong glance at him, she shot out with her right arm and connected with the bag.

"Tch, that the best you can do? Do it again. You're bending your knees too much. Don't look at me, look at it. He's the one that's going to kill you." He leaned over her shoulder, kicking the insole of her foot to move it and breathing warm air down her neck. "Let your guard down for an instant, and it may be the last one you get."

Twice more, she hit the sack, and twice more, she was corrected. It was all she could do to train her attention on his instruction and her supposed 'opponent.' Her mind was too muddled to argue, casting around the room to mark the whereabouts of the other occupants as they gradually cleared the gym, leaving the two of them alone. It was all she could do not to remember who it was that spoke to her and what she had done to him; re-adjusting her reckless stance by degrees, to what end she didn't know.

By the third and fourth attempts, she was already improving. An hour later, Levi finally admitted it.

"Your footing could use some work, but not bad, brat. Guess you haven't been a total waste of my time."

"My name's not brat. It's Emma," she replied, filling a water cup with the gallon tank near the wall. "You're a decent instructor, agent. I suppose you haven't been a total waste of mine."

Tsking lightly at her spunk, seeing as few people aside from Section Chief Erwin Smith and fellow team leader S.S.A. Hange ever dared to sass him, he accepted the cup she offered him by the rim and took a swig.

"Levi, if you insist on first names," he corrected. "Thank you… Ugh. It's warm. Disgusting."

Unable to repress the grin that knit the corner of her mouth as she observed his expression, Emma perched on the edge of the nearest workout bench and set down her cup. Her face was flushed from the effort she'd been exerting, but the man before her had barely broken a sweat, she noted with a tinge of well-meant jealousy.

"Better than nothing," she shrugged. "...If you don't mind my asking, what brought you here? Surely you had plans other than saving this hopeless case," she joked at her own expense, beginning to unbind her wrists. The raw red of her knuckles shone in bright contrast to the blanched skin beneath the wrappings where the fabric had been too snug.

Running a hand through his sleek, dark hair, Levi sat beside her and hunched over with his elbows on his knees. "Would you believe I'm a sucker for lost causes?"

The sun was shining at just the right angle through the window to render her blind, but it was impossible to miss the solemnity etched into those words. Thinking on her own reasons for hitting the gym that day, she grew silent, wondering if he knew she was partially to blame for his pain. He _was_ in pain; she could see it, even if no one else could.

"...I believe it… Listen, Levi, I don't mean to bring this up, but you deserve to know. I-"

"You remind me of her. S.S.A. Petra Ral," he cut her off quietly, staring at his reflection in the mirror opposite them. His steel eyes panned over to the image of her, smudged by a swipe of dirt on the glass. "She was a fair agent. Bit of a naive brat, but she had a good heart. Said too much or too little, but people admired her for her sincerity. Saw the best in people. I hate to think that's probably what got her killed."

His voice was steady but the glazed look in his orbs was haunted, his deep eye sockets overshadowed beneath his fringe in the natural light. She realized with a pang that he already knew to what she was about to confess, yet he had approached her anyway. Without thinking, Emma reached out a tentative hand and placed it over his interwoven fingers. His aura was cold but his flesh was warm.

"I'm sorry... Damn, Levi… I'm so, so sorry."

She didn't feel her own tears leaking down her face until they splattered onto her sweats, leaving salt residue on the black fabric.

"You're not going to get weepy on me, are you?" Levi queried in monotone, tilting his head to regard her. Although it was the first time she'd met him in person, she knew those eyes; yet their current depths were foreign. They bored into her as if they could read the pages of her soul, and she simultaneously longed for him to understand without explanation and wished with every fiber of her body that he wouldn't.

"Agent Ackerman, I…" She'd hoped formality would make it easier, but it didn't. She removed her hand, suddenly ashamed to touch him, but noticed his fists clenching tighter when she did.

"You were there that day, weren't you? You watched it happen," Levi remarked.

Her response hitched in her throat, but it wasn't a question.

"' _S.S.A.s Gunther Schultz, Eld Jinn, Oluo Bozado, and Petra Ral, among countless others, died in the apprehension of rogue agent Annie Leonhart, ending with a chase that rendered the agent comatose. Their team leader, Levi Ackerman, was working on the case under direction of Section Chief Erwin Smith and was therefore absent at the time. Various agents from adjacent departments were on scene, but were instructed by the bureau department heads not to release statements until further instruction.'_ That was the most those pigs would tell me. The same political bullcrap was broadcasted to government officials through the ranks, and that was the most I could get. Erwin technically put me on leave until I'm assigned a new team, but what's the point in moping around some shitty old house? Might as well get in some training while the brass is busy dragging their asses. I'm guessing you're here for a similar reason. Feels good to beat the shit out of something, doesn't it?"

By the way he was talking, Emma had the distinct impression that this was the first time Levi had voiced these opinions, and that he had was in and of itself surprising. She had heard from many acquaintances that had worked with the agent in the past that he was a stoic man, hard to read and harder to reach. So why was he confessing such things to a near stranger, one guilty of her crimes?

Bundling her wrappings into a loose ball, she nodded. "I didn't see how it happened, but I was on site immediately afterwards. My team beat the ambulances, not that it did much good. They died quickly, although that's hardly comforting. If we'd only arrived sooner, maybe we could have done something… But I- I couldn't… I couldn't save them," she choked out, clinging to the parched sensation of her lips to keep the tears from flooding over her. She was weak, and she hated herself for it. What gave her the right to live when so many braver ones were killed on her watch? She had no right to be, but she was afraid. What chance did someone shaking at a mere memory have at walking to a natural death unscathed? It seemed impossible when so many strong individuals had been massacred before their time in a single day.

Levi said nothing, instead standing with his arms hanging ramrod straight at his sides. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he strode to the nearest punching bag and formed his stance, advancing on his opponent with a powerful grace that was unexpectedly magnificent to behold. She had no doubt as to why he was so highly spoken of in the field as he danced through his personal routine, seemingly oblivious of her presence. Slowing, he wiped his hands on his pants. Even now, only a slight sheen of sweat coated his forehead.

"None of us are entitled to know what might have happened, Emma," he intoned, crouching in front of her. "We make our choices and we live with the consequences. I'm not going to tell you how to feel or whether or not to blame yourself. That's up to you. I can't tell you the right thing to do, only do what you think and never look back. Whatever you choose, your regrets are your own, so choose them wisely. Either way, this world doesn't believe in second chances."

Ice cold words and soft eyes. Those were the trademarks of Levi Ackerman, she decided as she drank him in. His words stung, piercing her with their harsh reality, and they weren't remotely comforting. Yet he'd lowered himself to her eye level as one would speak to a child. His tone had been soothing, hopeful, though he spoke as if no hope remained in the world.

As he stood, holding out his hand to her to help her up, she stared at his palm for a long moment before finally taking it. It felt like a promise, grasping his warm fingers in hers. A promise that she wasn't about to lie down and give up.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Thank you, Levi, for everything."

Studying her with a calloused expression that wasn't really calloused at all, he let out a small puff of air.

"Tch, don't thank me, brat. If you can stand, it was your own two feet that put you there. Not my doing if you have to walk through hell for the privilege."

Despite herself, Emma brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and granted him a small smile. "You're quite the puzzle, aren't you, Ackerman? Working the Leonhart case, I heard you were a badass in a fight and a hardass anywhere else, but I never would've guessed you were such a softy deep down."

Slightly off-put by her assessment, Levi clucked his tongue irritably, a look of disgust masking his face as he turned his back to her. She might've felt bad for embarrassing him by revealing his true nature if he hadn't spent the entire afternoon chiding her like some childish 'brat.' But as it was, she almost thought he needed it. He needed someone to see past his rough exterior and tease away that damnedable permafrown… Or deepen it if that meant she was reaching him, she thought as she walked to his side. She was unwilling to let him off of the hook so easily.

For whatever reason, she had the distinct impression that he had let her in, opening a small crack just to see if she bore the same scars he did. Although humbled, she was also confused by his forwardness. He had chosen to trust her, of all people, to whatever minor extent, and she wasn't about to allow the gesture to go unnoticed. She had to wonder if he had done so despite her role in the loss of his team, or perhaps... because of it.

Hoping it was the right thing, and hoping she wouldn't come to regret it, Emma tentatively reached out and laced her fingers through his. They were both guilty, both to blame, for so much pain and loss, that her heart burned with the ache of it. It was something they had caused, and something they both felt as they looked out on a world without so many happy, living, breathing people in it.

He didn't see Petra when he looked at her, she knew then. Petra was little more than a corpse and a memory now. She didn't walk around lashing out and wondering what might have been like they did. Maybe the two women bore a resemblance to some extent, in their mannerisms or their appearance. But the reflection he really saw, in her and in her image in the smudged mirror across the gym, was himself.

Deftly, her eyes trained on his profile as they stepped away from the gleam of the waning sun, Emma rotated to face him. With her free hand, she gently brushed his dark hair from his forehead and leaned in to place a chaste kiss to his temple. Allowing the black curtain to fall back into place as he stared blankly at her in what she could only assume was shock, she whispered.

"Whatever you may think, you're a good man, Levi. A grumpy bastard and a brat, but rather than hating me for failing them, you gave me hope while punishing yourself instead. You know that neither of us can change what happened and you say the most heinous things, but that's only because you're not so cruel as to console me with a lie. You're right, life doesn't believe in second chances, do-overs, but I'd like to imagine it believes in redemption, however cliche that may be. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I admire you but think you should keep a little of that forgiveness you've given me for yourself. We can both be suckers for lost causes together, and maybe one day, one of us will actually find a way to accept that gift. That forgiveness. What do you say, Ackerman?"

Her eyes shining softly up at him, Emma waited for the man to speak, but it was a long moment before he did. Lifting his hand to the spot where she had kissed him, he acted as if he was about to wipe the imprint away, but cupped his palm over it instead.

Without making eye contact, he muttered in a low, deep tone. "Disgusting. Do I even want to know where your mouth's been? You've got some nerve, kid. With idealism like that, you sound more like a politician than an agent."

Although his words weren't meant to be humorous, Emma laughed, a light chuckle that echoed against the metal machines and smooth walls of the room.

"I'll try not to take that as an insult. Perhaps I should go brush my teeth and try again. Tomorrow, maybe? I'm still not comfortable with that left hook you were trying to teach me."

Releasing his hand after a final squeeze, the woman retrieved her wrappings and threw her plastic water cup in the trash can before striding towards the far door. She could feel his steely gaze on her, but it shimmered more like the gentle gray-blue ocean on a cloudy day than a hard metal. As she entered the locker room, she peered into the mirror briefly to see his reflection.

Taking his hand from the spot where she had kissed him, Levi stared at his palm, glancing to her retreating form one last time. Folding his fingers into a fist, he held it to his heart and closed his eyes with a soft sigh. A single tear slipping from her toffee brown orbs, Emma stepped forward, waving over her shoulder.

"Until next time, Levi Ackerman."

Holding her hand to her own heart, she couldn't help but think the gesture resembled a salute: one last parting gift for the ones they'd left behind, and a promise to themselves that they would keep moving forward. She smiled, placing one foot after another though the door clanged shut behind her. Her wrists were raw and her muscles were aching, but the lingering warmth of his touch and the cool tinge to his words rested soothingly over her. In a voice barely above a whisper, Emma echoed his unspoken farewell: " _Goodbye, my dearest brat, and thank you_."

 **A/N:** Hello, and thank you! I wrote this story for myself, but I hope that why ever you clicked on it, you got something out of this one-shot. As pitiful as my attempts to write Levi's character might be, he and the AOT/SNK story have gotten me through enough drama and idiocy lately that I guess I couldn't help myself. While I don't plan to continue, I am considering starting a full-length for these characters in the original universe. Just wondering, if I did, would anyone be interested? Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and if you've got any comments or critiques, I'd love to hear from you. Thanks again, and hope you have a wonderful week.


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